Spaghetti Bolognese and Tinned Pears
by Sunshine Daisies Buttermellow
Summary: One Shot version of a chapter from a story I'm writing See beginning of this one-shot for more details!


_Summary:_

_The one-shot version of a chapter from a story I'm working on (which is being kept tightly under wraps, like the name of a celebrity's baby!). Read this first if you are unsure you want to read the whole fan fic (which could take AGES to finish)._

_Ron has left Harry and Hermione (the camping section of Deathly Hallows), and they mingle up and down the cold British countryside. They land one day in a woods near the village of Thornton, where Hermione hopes to change the cuisine they had been living on: berries and mushrooms. It's December 17th of 1996, after all, and not much grows in the wild. Hermione leaves Harry behind to head into town to buy some food, and she winds up getting more than she bargained for._

_Story Notes:_

_"Spaghetti Bolognese and Tinned Pears" is actually a reference to a line on page 315 in the original American edition of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Thornton is actually a place in England, and though I've never been there, I looked on a map as to where a good setting might be for me to place this story._

* * *

Thornton, England, near Sefton

Hermione reached out to grasp Harry's hand, which felt warm despite the icy wind that bit at her numb fingers. With a crack, they disapparated from the Scottish Loch where they had spent the previous night.

Hermione opened her eyes once the suffocating sensation that came with Apparation had ceased. A small forest met her eyes, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, filling her lungs to their capacity. She had not visited Thornton in a while, not since she was very young, when she visited the town once with her parents. The thought of them made her falter in her sigh.

"Where are we?" Harry asked while walking around the small wooded area. They had landed in a small patch of trees, not 500 feet from a winding country lane. A frozen reservoir glistened in the muted winter sun.

"Thornton, England. It's in Lancashire," Hermione replied, beginning to perform their usual enchantments.

"You don't think we could've gone to a more heavily wooded area?" Harry asked slowly.

Hermione turned to look at him, "Actually, I've been getting sick of eating things we find from forests. I knew that there was a little supermarket, and I think I'll go in and have a look around to see if we can get something to eat. Can I borrow your cloak?"

Harry nodded, and went over to one of Perkin's old arm chairs, leaning back while eyeing a book Hermione had left on a table nearby, "See you in, what, a few hours or so?"

Hermione nodded, hoping her face did not convey the excitement she felt. She knew that staying with Harry was crucial to his sanity, but it endangered hers, staying in that tent for so long. She needed to escape from the symbol in "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" and from Harry's silence. For the past weeks, ever since, well, _that_ boy's departure, Harry and Hermione's routine was one of dreary litany, and it was with excitement that she walked the few miles to the small town's grocery store.

Her excitement faded quickly, however. Within the first few minutes of her walk, her face, despite being covered by the Invisibility Cloak, a scarf and large woolen hat, was red with cold. Praying that her old Wellington boots would not finally give way due to the beating they had endured from harsh weather these past few weeks, she began to run toward the town's main street.

When she arrived to the cluster of modest homes, she took a moment to take in the twinkling Christmas lights from various windows. After a few seconds of observation, she went toward the grocery.

She had to wait for someone to open the door, since she was invisible. Once an elderly man and woman opened the door, she snuck past them and went down a random aisle.

Hermione perused the shelves, looking for something warm she could take discreetly. She looked at a display of microwavable entrees and settled on a meal of Spaghetti Bolognese. Thinking that she should buy some fruit too, she went toward the aisle with refrigerated goods. She turned the corner quickly, and then froze in midstep, dropping the container of Spaghetti Bolognese.

The aisle she decided to use as a source for food was tainted, tainted by an unnecessary complication. The taint was a tall, young man with pale blonde hair, looking in on the display of wine in a refrigerator.

Hermione was frozen, unable to move. She could not think of a person she did not want to see more than this person, except perhaps Voldemort, any Death Eater, or… well, that other boy.

The young man turned to walk down toward the back of the store, toward Hermione. His eyes fell upon the container of Spaghetti Bolognese on the floor. One brow raised, he walked toward it to pick it up.

Waves of fear flowed through Hermione, who seemed unable to move. He took a step closer and closer to Hermione, who shook with fear at the possibility of being discovered.

He bent down and picked it up, but not before pausing to listen. He cocked his head to the side: Was that hurried, shortened breathing he heard, or was it just his imagination?

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that he must have heard her frantic breathing. She felt feeling surge back into her legs, and she turned around to run away, as fast as she could from this new threat.

Well, she was never one for athleticism, this was precisely why she hated Quidditch; she was not graceful. Hermione could not think of a better time for her to need agility than now. Unfortunately for her, now was not her time to be either agile or graceful, for she ran straight into a display of yogurt, stacked opposite the refrigerators this young man had been looking at.

With a cry of pain and shock, she hit the floor, flat on her bottom. She spun around to look at the man; sure he had seen an elbow, a hand, from her fall. She looked down at herself and gulped; one of her feet was sticking out from the cloak.

There was no point in pulling it back in, he had already seen it. The game was over; she had spoiled their plan of ever having a chance to defeat Voldemort.

The young man walked toward her revealed foot, his face perplexed. He knelt down, just an inch away from it, and reached out to remove the cover.

Hermione did not want to make eye contact with him, so she looked at the ground, fighting back tears. She thought of trying to stun him, but her wand was beneath her, and her moment's hesitation, her moment of frozenness, had cost her any chance of saving herself.

She felt the cloak slide off her head and ripple down her shoulders. Still not daring to look at him, she waited to hear his response.

"Granger?" His voice asked, slightly incredulous.

She didn't say anything or move.

Malfoy let out a low chuckle, "What brings you here, Granger?"

Hermione continued to look at her lap, "I should ask the same thing of you, Malfoy," she whispered in a low voice, with as much courage as she could muster.

"Escaping before the holidays… but I've gotten myself an early present. Imagine what the Dark Lord will say when he finds out I've found one of Potter's most loyal friends… and I bet Potter isn't far from here, is he, Granger?"

Hermione did not know where the braveness that came with being a Gryffindor had gone, for she had nothing to say.

"You don't say anything… well, let's start out slowly. What brings you here to Thornton?" Malfoy drawled in a low voice.

"H-Holiday shopping," Hermione stammered.

Draco chuckled, "Not as eloquent to answer a question as you are at Hogwarts," Hermione looked up at him slightly, glaring at the face she loathed. Malfoy raised his eyebrows, "I doubt that answer. Why are you really here?"

Hermione felt her Gryffindor boldness surge back into her chest; why did it have to be finicky today?

"I should ask you, Malfoy," she whispered in a threatening voice, "Buying yourself some liquor? Your parents won't be too pleased with this, especially since you've left Hogwarts early."

Malfoy's cheeks went slightly pink, "Never mind why I'm here, and I reckon they'll be pleased I'm here, since I've caught you," he leaned toward her.

Roughly, he placed a hand on her chin and forced her face upward to look into his eyes. Brown eyes met blue. She observed his cunning face, which concentrating on her own. He observed her warm brown eyes, slightly wet with the angry tears she held back.

"Where is Potter, Granger?" He said in a low voice.

Hermione stared at him with a look of loathing, saying nothing.

"Answer me, Granger; I know you know how to answer a question. Where is Potter?"

She continued to look angrily at him and actually tightened her lips so he could visually see her closing her mouth tightly.

Malfoy rolled his eyes, "Fine don't talk. But I'll figure it out somehow," he looked at her microwave meal, "Tell me, why were you going to buy this food? The box says it serves two," Hermione looked away, unable to keep up a charade much longer. She kept her lips tightened, so she wouldn't be tempted to scream out, for if she did, Malfoy would curse everyone in sight.

Malfoy sighed; "You're actually going to make me force you to talk," Hermione looked back at him, challenging him with her eyes.

Malfoy moved his hand to her face again, but this time, more carefully. He placed a finger on her lips and pulled them apart. As he did this, Hermione watched him with blank shock, unable to believe that he had the nerve to do this.

Now her mouth was slightly open. Smiling crookedly, Malfoy removed a hand from her face, "There; I've unstuck your mouth. It seemed glued shut."

Hermione shut her eyes; he was humiliating her before he would turn her in to his boss, along with Harry. This was how Malfoy was; a little dance before he went in for the grand kill. She would be the sole reason that Voldemort would never be defeated; because of her foolishness.

Now the tears that she held back fell down as she shut her eyes.

"Oh please, you're crying?" Malfoy drawled in an annoyed tone, "Open your eyes."

Hermione did as he asked, tears still flowing freely.

Malfoy looked at her, feeling something well up in his chest. He saw her sitting on the ground, her hair messy from her fall, tear tracks etched upon her face, flowing from those brown eyes. He looked at her defensive pose, how she sat slightly hunched over. He furrowed his brow; he did not know what he was feeling: exasperation? No… this was something else he rarely felt, and he knew what it was:

Pity.

He did not know what made him do it. Yet suddenly, something sprung up inside him, unable to be controlled. He reached out toward her face with one hand, she recoiled slightly, perhaps she was afraid he was going to hit her. He looked calculatingly at her face, unaware of what he was doing.

He leaned toward her face, slowly and deliberately. She looked at him unbelievingly, but she did not fight to remove his hand.

He placed his lips lightly on hers, not forcibly, but gently. The hand that he had put on her face now ran through her hair, with deliberate care. She did not move her lips to respond to him, but remained frozen, not even caring to shut his eyes, even though he had.

He leaned back from her, looking away and standing up. Feeling bewildered at this inexplicable random surge of affection for a girl he was supposed to hate, he said dismissively, "Never mind that Granger, now get up, and I'm taking you to the Dark Lord."

She still sat there, looking down at the ground.

Perhaps Malfoy kissed her because he felt so designated and so committed to the status his parents foisted upon him, perhaps he was just eager to do something bold because he had spent his whole life feeling restrained, perhaps (and this was where he seemed to feel really alarmed) he felt attracted to her.

Malfoy mentally shook this assumption out of his mind. If he truly wanted to please his father, he needed to fill the Death Eater robes nobly… even if he was only filling them because his father could not.

While this battle raged inside Malfoy's head, he tried pushing these insecurities, these uneasy feelings out of his head. Hermione still sat on the floor, staring at the ground.

"Granger, you're not making this any easier," she heard the lack of authority in his voice. She figured that if she went quietly, without mentioning Harry, then at least he would be safe. She stood up, not looking at him, holding the invisibility cloak loosely at her side.

He looked at her, observing the confusion and dejection on her face, and then nodded when she stood next to him. With an abrupt turn, he went out toward the store's exit. Hermione followed; she knew it was no use trying run or jinx him. The braveness that came with being a Gryffindor may have failed her earlier, but she found it again, when she needed it most; she walked alongside Malfoy who would lead her she knew not where, but she knew where it would be in a metaphorical sense: an eclipse of the world as she knew it.

They reached the snowy street, and he went toward the edge of the street. She could hear the snow crunching beneath her boots, and she looked forward, not wanting to show the fear on her face, or the confusion as to where he was leading her.

As she walked, she realized she could not have remembered a more bizarre turn of events in her life than the one that had just occurred in that grocery store. She remembered him advancing toward her, an unfamiliar expression on his face; was it insanity, or momentary delusion? No, it wasn't either of those:

It was warmth.

Malfoy stopped at the end of the street, underneath a lamppost. Hermione looked at him resignedly.

"Okay, so now, I'm taking you to the Dark Lord's headquarters," he said with as much authority as he could muster.

Evidently, Hermione saw through this charade. Her courage came back, "You don't sound too confident in yourself. Even if you do bring me there, my death won't solve _anything_ for your cause. Besides, you've conveyed conflicting emotions this past half hour," she said in a low voice, "Maybe I won't tell you why I'm really here, but maybe I'll tell your parents what you did to me in the grocery store."

Malfoy's expression became enraged; he advanced toward her, "If you do-"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, and he stopped talking, "I think you're the one who should be explaining things. I don't know what to make of you now. I can't even take you seriously as a Death Eater anymore."

Malfoy looked at her. She observed something new in his eyes. She didn't know what it was at first, and then she knew a second later:

Confliction.

He sighed; now he was the one who looked upset, "I'm not cut out for this," he said in a low voice, "My destiny was chosen for me, I never wanted… my father-"

"Then perhaps you shouldn't have joined up," she said in a fierce voice, "Leave now, if you can. I don't think you'll be able to escape."

He looked at her, his old careless aura about him, "You don't think I could pull it off?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "No."

He walked toward her, "Then what if I told you," he whispered, "That I'm not all that I seem? I'm sure that you've heard rumors… I supposedly hook up with Pansy Parkinson every night, and every other girl that even slightly turns me on… what if I told you…" he walked toward her, a challenging look on his face, "That for some time now, I've realized that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen?"

Hermione blinked. She did not have a clue what was going on, "Are you out of your mind?" she said slowly, "You're supposed to hate me."

He laughed a hollow laugh, "My life was cut out for me already, Hermione," he faltered, Hermione's jaw dropped slightly: he had said her name; "My father told me all of his own preconceived notions, and I was told to parrot them."

Hermione breathed a sigh, "Then why are you telling me all of this?"

He exhaled slowly, "I don't know."

He walked toward her and placed a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. This time, he looked at her. Her expression remained the same.

He kissed her slowly, lightly biting the sides of her lips. Slowly, Hermione felt her restraints breaking through; much as she did not want to kiss Draco Malfoy, she had to admit, he was fantastic.

She pulled back from his face before she truly let herself go, she looked into his face, and saw that he wore an expression of impatience, "It's funny," she began thoughtfully, "I always pictured you being a bit of a lecherous-" Malfoy raised his eyebrows, smiling slightly, "well, confident womanizer. But you're very gentle. Not as aggressive as I would have thought."

Malfoy laughed slowly, "I'm just testing the waters."

Now his kisses became more demanding, and Hermione could hear herself arguing in her head: the good Hermione persona shouted at her for willingly allowing him to take advantage of her, but the more bold Hermione, the one who so rarely came out, coerced her into enjoying the feeling… it had been a while since she'd been snogged anyone, and Krum wasn't exactly the best kisser.

Guess which Hermione won?

She found herself being pushed up against the lamppost as Malfoy took one of her legs in his hands; she wrapped that leg around his standing frame. He pressed his abdomen against her, now forcefully kissing her to the point where she gasped for breath, even though his lips and tongue were begging for her lips when she removed them.

Hermione stepped back and removed herself from his arms. He looked upset that she had slowed down their frenzied act of attraction, which had become increasingly heated.

"We can't do this in public," she whispered. Malfoy's eyes became alight with mischief.

Malfoy took her hand tentatively, she allowed him to take it. They walked down the country lane as it snowed ever harder.

"I know of an inn," he said in a seductive voice that actually caused Hermione to freeze in her tracks.

"We can't…" she began, but he silenced her with his lips, and she succumbed to the feeling of his tongue tracing the sides of her lips. She looked up at him, "Tell me where it is."

Malfoy smiled triumphantly and led her onward.

The inn was a prototypical British inn in the countryside; small with ivy running alongside its brick walls. A smattering of fluffy snow covered the front steps that preceded a chipped green door.

Malfoy looked at her and whispered, "Wait."

She stood outside for a minute, mind racing at what she was about to do, and even more so about who she was going to do it with.

She did not have much time to think things through, however. Malfoy emerged from the inn, holding an old fashioned key. She stepped toward him and went inside.

She did not even look around at the entrance hall to the inn, though she could tell it had carved wooden walls. She thought wildly of Harry back in the forest, waiting patiently for the meal she was to bring him. For a moment, she thought of turning back, but they had already reached the top of the stairs. He unlocked the door with his wand, shoving the key into his pocket.

She stepped inside the small room. The last bit of sun streamed through the window, only slightly illuminating the white, flowery wallpaper. Her eyes fell on the double bed, with its plain white quilt save for a few simple designs.

She turned around to look at Malfoy, and gasped quietly: he had removed his shirt. Her innocent eyes roved over his defined chest openly.

Malfoy laughed quietly, she saw his perfect abdomen tighten as he shook, "You haven't had much experience, have you?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Well then, I'll show you…" he said seductively. He walked toward her and slipped a hand beneath her sweater, tugging it over her brown hair. He saw yet another sweater underneath, laughed, and tugged it off too. Now only her bra remained. He pulled her toward his chest, pressing his warm chest against her shaking figure.

He pulled back, "Are you alright?"

Hermione looked shocked, "You actually want to make sure my feelings are alright?" Malfoy laughed, Hermione smiled slightly, "Well, if I'm going to do this, I might as well have my first time be with someone…"she leaned back into him, not sure where this seductiveness was coming from, "skilled."

Malfoy's eyes widened. He laid her on the bed slowly, kissing her with relish, as though she was the tonic that would save his life.

He paused for a moment and looked at her. Hermione knew what came next, and she knew why he paused: he was asking for her permission.

Hermione tilted her head to the side, smiling, "Go on, Draco."

It was the first time she ever said his name, and in that moment they became entirely new people to each other.

Hermione lifted herself out of the tangled sheets, glancing at the clock.

"Whoops! I've been gone 2 hours!"

Draco sat up, scratching his neck, watching her carefully.

She began to pick up her clothes and slowly dress herself. Once she had finished, she turned to look at Draco, who's eyes had never wavered from her.

"I have to go," she said quietly, "I suppose you're going to follow me, to see where I go?"

Draco shook his head, while wearing a curious expression.

"Oh, okay then…" Hermione turned away, "Goodbye."

"You didn't get Potter anything to eat," he said slowly.

She turned back to look at him, fear in her eyes.

Draco chuckled, "So I took the liberty of getting you these," he rummaged in his cloak and pulled out the container of Spaghetti Bolognese and a can of tinned pears.

Hermione looked shocked, "But I didn't see you buy those!"

Draco laughed, "I just froze the alarms at the store," Hermione flushed, "I suppose you're angry?"

Hermione sighed, "No, I'm not. Thank you."

He smiled ruefully, "Don't let Potter know I helped him."

Hermione sighed dryly, "Oh I can assure you, he won't ever know."

She looked at him one last time. She knew that this would be the end of things, that never again would they be this intimate. She smiled at him, privately thanking him for not turning her in.

He understood what her smile meant, and bowed his head. She turned away and walked out the door.

Hermione ran back to the tent where Harry waited. She first saw him, sitting at the mouth of the tent, looking thoughtfully at her.

"That took you a while. How did you pay without being seen?"

Hermione bit her lip, "I just dropped it into an open cash register."

Harry nodded appreciatively when he saw her hoard, "Looks delicious! I love pears."

"Do you?" Said Hermione in an amused voice.

"I think we should have you go to the market more often."

Hermione laughed, "That may not be a bad idea after all."

* * *

_Author's Ending Notes:_

_Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, I'd greatly appreciate it. Do not be afraid to be honest! My goal is to become the best writer I can be, so please, say what you feel. At the same time, please be constructive; in other words, do not simply write snarky comments and then proceed to not tell me what I can improve upon._


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